


All We Are

by IHeartStories



Series: The Heart of Everything (Series) [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adlock eluded too only, Asexual Sherlock Holmes, Hug Scene (Sherlock: The Lying Detective), Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Not Beta Read, One-Shot, POV First Person, Sherlock and John have a chat, there is a kiss too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 12:36:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18941086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHeartStories/pseuds/IHeartStories
Summary: Sherlock and John have a chat, and many other things, what could have happened during the hug scene.





	All We Are

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these wonderful characters.  
> This just a one shot, unbeta read.  
> So if you see any mistakes, let me know.

**~ All We Are ~**

 And it was within this very moment, that every emotion, the ones that I had once claimed to be abhorrent, ludicrous, and a human error. Emotions and feelings were something that only idiotic humans have... and yet, here I stand. Experiencing everything single emotion known to humankind.

Here I stand and for once, I do not hold them at bay.

Why should I? When I'm holding the one man, the best man, whom I've ever had the privilege of knowing. Never have I ever felt like doing this, to anyone.

To hold someone close.

To hold someone whom I’ve loved above all others.

Love is not a foreign emotion to me, for I have felt the taste of love, only to be burnt. I do not know if what I had felt was love, or perhaps it was, and yet, whatever I had felt for that Woman, pales in comparison to everything that I have ever felt for John Watson.

I’ve never once felt the desire to have sex, to sleep with another person, and I still don’t feel that desire to have sex.

Then again, what does my thoughts about sex and desires, have anything to deal with fact.

The fact that I’m holding a distraught John Watson in my arms.

John Watson, the conductor of my light, my blogger, my friend and the one man, whom I’d do anything to protect. I’ve never once felt the desire to comfort someone… to do something so human and yet, I find myself wanting.

There are so many words that needs to be said between us.

Everything is a mess and I do not know how to clean it up. How can we fix things between us? How can we return to the way things were? Return to the place before I jumped off a rooftop, forcing John to watch and grieve. I do not regret my decision. Saving the lives of my friends meant more to me than my own life. And John… to live a life, one where John is absent from… was not something that I could dare myself to dream about. For, how could anyone desire to live in an empty, dull and colourless world without John.

Words have never been our forte. Especially not when it comes to situations, such as the one that lays before them. A touch and a glance were usually all that was needed for the two of us. 

“I’m sorry,” John murmured as he begins to pull himself away from me.

“Don’t be sorry,” I tell John.

John steps away from me, his eyes still full of pain and sorrow, and of guilt. From the very moment that I had met the man before me, I’ve always felt drawn to John’s eyes. Deep blues, with a hint of brown. It was not the colour of his eyes that drew me to him. Not at first. It was the way John’s eyes spoke, of the pain, the loneliness and the sorrow. I looked inside the windows of John’s soul and like tasting a new drug, I was hooked. I had become addicted to this man, to John Watson.

I could look at John all day and never get bored.

“Molly will be here soon,” John says as if he were trying to find something to break the silence.

“Yes,” is all I could find to say to John.

John looks like he wants to leave, and I just want to find a way that’ll convince him to stay.

The tension between us is suffocating. Making it hard to think. To concentrate on the ‘work’.

Why did loving this man feel like walking though a battlefield naked?

And this is exactly why I’ve been trying so hard not to fall in love.

But it is already too late.

I’ve fallen in so deep. To a place where no one can hear me scream.

And yet, despite all this excruciating agony, I cannot bring myself to tear away. I can’t even bring myself to delete the whole notion from my mind palace.

My weakness, and my strength, that is all John has become. Enemies have already tried to exploit that weakness and will do so again. Anyone who is not an idiot can see what this man means to me.

How did Moriarty explain it me?... ah, that’s right.

My heart. To burn the heart out of me. That was what Moriarty was eluding to.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” John says to me, as he points towards my now tear damp shirt.

I glanced down, deducing all he could about the wet patch on his shirt, before glancing once again towards John.

“It’s just a shirt, John.” I tell John, with as much honesty as I could muster. “And stop apologising, you know how much that annoys me.”

There are many things that we can say, and yet here we are, discussing shirts with tears stains on them.

John narrows his eyes slightly, gazing at me, licking his lips in that nervous manner of his, “You didn’t kill Mary,” John explains, his voice strained with quilt. “It was wrong of me to blame you. Just as it was wrong for me to hurt you -”

“You were grieving, and it was my fault to -”

“Sherlock, hitting you at the morgue, was not your fault. I don’t even know why I wanted to hurt you – but, I did hurt you. I know you don’t like apologies, but I will apologise,” John vehemently says to me. “As many times as, I can.”

Whilst just standing in the middle of the lounge room, John and I stare at each other, staring into each other’s eyes. We’ve stared into each other’s eyes so many times. During those times, I’ve always fought the desire to claim those lips as his own. John may often claim that he is not gay, and yet I’ve seen the way he looks at me, how he looked at James Sholto. Always with such longing.

I’ve only kissed and touched one person, and she is a thousand miles away.

“I’ve already forgiven you,” I say to John.

“Despite what I did to you, which is not right by the way, you’ve forgiven me?” John asked with disbelief.

“Even so,” I replied. Stepping closer to John, so that I could place my hands on his biceps. “I’ll always forgive you, John. It’s not right. It’s just what it is.”

“You should be hating me -”

“What will hating you prove,” I cut John’s sentence off. “Hating you will get us nowhere. Besides I love you too much -”

I froze, not believing what I dared to say.

The events have been so stressed enough without adding so more complications into it. John’s friendship is the one thing I treasure above all else. I can’t afford to lose John’s friendship.

“I’m sorry… You, what did you just say?” John asked, his eyes alight with burning curiosity. “Did you just say that you love me?”

“You heard me,” I replied with a small smile on my face.

“Why?” John asked me.

“Why what?” I replied. “Oh, as in why I love you?” I asked without waiting for John’s reply.

“Yes, and why are you telling me this now,” John curiously says, as he backs away from me.

“I have absolutely no idea,” and I don’t honestly know why. “I just do.”

“That’s not an answer, Sherlock,” John glanced away.

“And yet it is,” and my desire to kiss John has never felt this strong before. “Perhaps one day I’ll find answer to your question.”

And so, it was, before John could even utter a word, it was like it was in movie, or a dream, I felt so disconnected from my body, from my mind. I swooped over to where he was.

My lips collided with John’s.

~

**The** **End.**

**Author's Note:**

> If you had made it all the way to the end.  
> Thank you so much for reading.  
> I haven't written a fic in so long and I just felt like trying out a story with these two lads.  
> Enough chatter, I hope you all have a nice day, uhm night.


End file.
